Tornado Weekend!

This was definitely not the weekend to be in certain areas of Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, or Arkansas.  Twisters were dancing about the landscape in every direction.

Two areas hardest hit were Woodward, Oklahoma and Wichita, Kansas.

I was saddened to hear that five (5) Oklahomans lost their lives in Woodward; three of them children.  Thankfully, no lives were lost in Wichita and/or that the death toll was any higher.

The twisters themselves are a beautiful force of nature to behold.  It's the damage, death. and destruction they leave in their wake that makes them feared and respected and spring just a little less welcome.  Just a little.

Bless the Beasts and the Children

I remember the first time I heard the song, "Bless the Beats and the Children," sung by the Carpenters (http://youtu.be/AhR36gV6vW4) 

The song is based on the 1971 film adaptation of the same name featuring "Lost In Space" actor Bill Mumy.  The film is about a group of social misfits who band together and run away from summer camp.  Along the way they take up a crusade to save a group of penned in buffaloes from a rifle club's slaughter for fun, (source: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0068286/)

The reason I mention this film is because of the emotions both the song and film stirred up within me as I viewed and listened to both.  

I remember hearing the golden voice of Karen Carpenter sing that song and immediately my thoughts were of all the children throughout the world who suffer physically and mentally, sometimes violently at the hands of adults.

The thought that would always cross my mind was this, "If an adult can hurt an innocent child and still sleep soundly at night, how much more would that same man do in a position of power?"

I had not given this song much thought since using it at my "Heroes and the Boogie Man" workshop this past weekend.

I was researching the Internet for a graduate study class when I came across images of children who had been murdered by radical members of Islam.

One image in particular that caught my attention was of two children -- a brother and sister, Assyrian Christians, who were very young.  The boy probably was not much older than 6 years old; his sister not much further ahead of him.  What was sad about this photo was the connection it made with my own children.

I kept thinking to myself as I held back my tears, "How can anyone be so ugly within themselves that they would slaughter an innocent child this way?"

The boy was left atop a coffee table.  His body appeared to have little trauma to it, although clearly was not the case for his sister.

She was left on the floor and appeared to have more trauma afflicted upon her.  It was obvious to me that this little girl was not only murdered with a violence I hope to never understand, her body was also disrespected even in death.

What is even worse is that this sort of atrocity against children has been committed over the ages since time began.  Even the United States is not exempt.  Thousands of babies are killed each year just through abortions alone.  Are we any less guilty than the people who killed those two children?

I do not know what happened to the bodies of the two children who were found murdered.  I hope they were given a proper burial and that their families have found peace.

How many more stories are we going to read about in the news, not just of children being murdered because of radical religious beliefs (from all sides), but about those children in other parts of the world whom are kidnapped and sold into slavery; those children who are physically and mentally abused; those children who go to bed hungry at night because dad is drinking away their food money or mom is spending it at the casino's?

Who is going to stand up and speak out for and protect our children?

All I can do at this moment is pray and hope that God will listen.

I hope you will pray for the children as well.

Whitney Houston

(1963 - 2012)

Were you as shocked by the news of Whitney Houston's death as I was?

I am certain many people, especially those who were die hard fans of Ms. Houston were surprised to hear that this legendary singer had passed away.

Ms. Houston passed away on Saturday, February 11, 2012 while preparing to attend the Grammy's in Los Angeles, California.

Houston was staying at the Beverly Hills Hilton when she was found by one of her entourage submerged in a bathtub filled with water.

Whitney was a musical marvel.  I loved her musical and acting talents, her beauty, her incredible smile and the obvious love she had for singing, acting, and performing.

One poignant memory I have of Whitney was when she appeared on stage with another very well known Diva -- Mariah Carey.  In 1998, Whitney and Mariah combined their musical talents to sing the immortal, "When You Believe," http://youtu.be/CxIN79n4jVo

Each time I watch that video and hear that song I can feel the shivers racing down my spine -- the song and the coming together of these two talented musical giants was phenomenal to say the least.

Of course, there was the time when Whitney sang, "The Star Spangled Banner" in 1991 at Super Bowl XXV http://youtu.be/xS-R7SM_-M4

It is so sad, distressing really, when you see the body of a major pop star/celebrity of the caliber of Whitney Houston being removed from the place where they expired.

To see the body being placed on a gurney for the trip to the Coroner's office is surreal because for many years these singing giants were immortalized almost to the point of being seen (or appearing to be seen) as musical Gods.

Then death comes knocking and reminds us all just how real life and death are and that from the poorest of the poor to the richest of the rich -- all ships truly do anchor at the same harbor in the end.

I will miss this legendary entertainer - the legendary queen of pop and cousin to another favorite of mine, Ms. Dionne Warwick.

My prayers and condolences to the entire family.

Whiteny, we will always love you.

http://youtu.be/NiYWh0Q8UVk

What is it like to be sexually molested?

 "Carlos, what did it feel like to be sexually molested?"

I hated that question.  "What was it like to be sexually molested?"  I thought it was rude and insensitive.  It was like asking a Brazilian, "What is it like to be Mexican?"

What does that mean anyway -- what is it like to be sexually molested?

What is it like to be male?  What is it like to be poor?  What is it like to be short instead of tall?  What is it like to be dumb instead of smart?

These are all questions that make absolutely no sense.  However, when you remove the emotional component of the question one can understand the reason for someone asking the question.

The questioner is asking because he or she genuinely wants to know; to understand that which they themselves had never experienced.

When I first came out of the post-abuse closet, asking what it felt like to be molested was a question that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up for two reasons:

1) It would take me back to the actual experiences (in my mind), and,
2) It was asked too often.

At first I would become angry with the inquirer because I believed the question was one of those type of questions you just didn't ask someone who had been sexually molested.

"How can you even ask that question?" I would sharply fire back.  "Why do you need to know?"

I suppose it is for the same reason why one individual asked President Bill Clinton which underwear did he prefer, "Boxers or briefs?"

Not a question I would have asked the president of the United States.

However, in my mind I came to accept that the individual asking the question, for whatever reason, genuinely wanted to know.  

Still, asking that particular question made absolutely no sense to me in my mind?

Neither does sexually abusing children.

On page 30 of my book, Baltimore Monday: A Celebration of Life Beyond Sexual Abuse (Signature Book Printing, Inc., 2006), I attempted to answer that very question using an image of a haunted house to emphasize what being sexually molested was like for me.

I called it ...

The House on Haunted Hill

What did it feel like to be sexually molested?

It was cold and disgusting.

The aftermath of the experience often left me feeling dirty, used, violated, ashamed and helpless.  I often felt angry, lost and alone.  I was always on the run -- or so it seemed that way. 

No matter how fast I ran or where I would hide it seemed that he (the Boogie Man) would always find me!

He would take me to a place that frightened me the most.  A dark, haunting place.  A place that gave birth to the creatures of my nightmares.

It was a lonely, dank, dark broken down place.

It stood alone in shadows that had long been forgotten.  Everything around it appeared dead or dying.  I could not help but feel that through it's boarded windows it was watching me; waiting for me to come home!

It had no heart and sheltered no soul; at least not a soul unto itself.

The walls were tattered and torn.  They bore the images of victim's past.  If you listened long enough you could hear the faint cries of those victims echoing through its walls, "Help me!  Please help me!"

An eerie slow moving fog covered the ground and a musty stench permeated every inch of the house.  It was a smell not unfamiliar to my young nose.  A smell no child should ever recognize.

Like it's victims, the tree's were barren and naked, projecting finger-like branches in every direction.

The moon was always full.

Its light would clash constantly with the cloudy night sky draping an eerie purple luminescence over the entire hillside.  The clouds, thick and violent had clasps of thunderous anger crashing from their centers.

My heart would beat faster than I could process my thoughts.  There was not a single place in that house for me to hide.

I was scared. I was very scared.

His favorite area to play was the front porch.  It heightened his sense of excitement.  "The thrill of the catch!" he would say.  "I am the hunter and you are my prey!"

The idea of getting caught added an adrenaline rush to his warped state of mind.

That is what it felt like to be sexually molested -- at least for me!